


Thirty-Days

by Soulhearts



Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Anxiety, Hallucinations, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Dynamics, Solitary Confinement, Starvation, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 8,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulhearts/pseuds/Soulhearts
Summary: Riki beats up another pet. Iason gives him thirty days of solitary confinement.





	1. Day 01

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Cross-posted from ff.net.

**Day 01:**

Damn him! Damn that fucking Blondie to the fiery pits of hell! I did nothing to deserve this; being put in this stupid, fucking tiny room which holds only a toilet, a sink and two pieces of cloth which I think is supposed to be something for me to lie down on.

Honestly, all I did was give back what that other pet clearly deserved! C'mon, that fucker was making such snide comments to me—I told Iason I couldn't be held responsible if he continued—all I did was rough him up a bit. I barely even scratched the prick and he goes crying to his master! But of course Iason gives me that look and I know I'm in for a whole new world of hurt. Except this time, he doesn't beat me, he shoves me in this tiny fucking room which I didn't even know he had in this mansion of an apartment and tells me: " _When you learn to be better behaved, you can come out_." Yeah, right, sure thing, Iason. I'll just do that. I'd rather die! I'll stand up for myself.

Fuming, I sit down in the corner on the two sheets of cloth that have been set out for me and in the back of my mind I begin to wonder when Iason will let me out before shaking my head and clearing my thoughts. No, fuck him. If he wants to play this game with a slum mongrel – the most beaten and starved dogs on the block – then fine. Let him. Let's play this game. I'll never apologise! Never.


	2. Day 02

**Day 02:**

I didn't sleep last night. Not even a wink. The floor was too cold for me to even lie down on so I curled up in the corner and tried to sleep there but still, no dice. It was __very__ cold. Every time I felt like I couldn't take it anymore I got up and paced around the room, trying to get some blood flow back into my... well, everywhere really. Hands, feet, knees, knuckles, joints in general. I spent most of the night with my fingers underneath my armpits, making sure they didn't freeze off from the astounding cold. If I could ask for one thing, it would be a heater... or even just a quilt that I could bundle myself up in.

However, I noticed something else. Cal hadn't brought me any food. I didn't know Iason was planning on letting me starve in here, but apparently that's his fucking goal! But I can deal with that too. I'm stronger and tougher than he thinks I am. I may have softened up a bit staying in such luxury, but I'm a street mongrel through and through. Not to mention that starving had basically been my constant state when I lived in the slums. Well, starving, drunk or otherwise completely off my face with the adrenaline of fighting.

I'll pull through this. I don't know how many days he's going to leave me in here but I know I'll be fine—you can't break a slum mongrel that easily.


	3. Day 03

**Day 03:**

One thing I'm certainly grateful for is the sink in this tiny room. I was able to somewhat fill the void in my stomach again today with the clean, fresh water that comes from that tap. In fact, I was practically laughing! Clean water being the key thing to laugh about here. Especially since for years when I lived in the streets, clean water was a commodity you couldn't bloody well buy! I'd drunk my fair share of foul, possibly disease infested water. I'd been sick and throwing up because of such water before. Iason was basically giving me a luxury here and he didn't even know it!

These last few days alone in this little room though... it's given me plenty of time to think. To think about my life as a slum dweller, as well as my life as a pet. To think about Iason, as well as Guy. I don't really want to think about it anymore. I don't want to think about them. Every time I try to organise my thoughts and my wants and desires, it all goes to shit. I can't have what I want anyway – I belong to a fucking Blondie psychopath who's intent on letting me starve to death. Yet, if I could have what I wanted, I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm... I'm not sure what it is that I want...

To get out of this room I suppose…


	4. Day 04

**Day 04:**

I am ready to claw my fucking face off! I need a cigarette so bad!

I'm also about ready to kill that dumb as shit Blondie. He's not shown his face to me for four whole days. Actually, I'm wondering how he's holding up without my body to torture endlessly every night. Honestly, that thought makes me a little bit smug... though, he was doing fine before I came along...

... but... I am just... a tiny... bit...

No, I am not lonely. I'm fine. I'm fine. Fuck him.

He's going to be the lonely one. He'll come get me soon. I'm his goddamn entertainment!

I am hungry though. Seriously hungry. I wish I could remember what food tasted like. Even out in the slums I would've found  _something_ to eat by now – even if I'd had to beat someone up for it. A scrap of bread, a couple of grains of rice… I would've eaten by now.


	5. Day 05

**Day 05:**

It's been so quiet. Silent even. I hadn't noticed how quiet until I heard that unmistakable laugh. For a moment my optimism pricked. For a second I thought he was coming to get me. For half a moment my hopes lifted.

But then I heard another unmistakable laugh. Another sadistic Blondie.

Raoul.

And my delusions came crashing back down. My reality returned. It probably wouldn't be so bad if Iason would simply tell me when he was going to come back. But it's this endless waiting that is destroying me. Inch by inch.

I heard the sound of a pool cue and then billiard balls being racked up. The two of them weren't quiet in their merriment either. I heard the clinking of glasses and shouts directed at Cal to bring them more food.

At the mention of food I gulped. At least I couldn't  _smell_ the food. That would make it…

_I could smell it._

_No._ The salty smell of fried food. The sound of laughter as the two of them tucked into whatever delicious thing it was that they were eating.

…

" _Orphe! So nice to see you brother! Where are the other two?"_

" _They're coming along shortly. I thought I'd head on up first."_

…

More fucking Blondies? What, was Iason having a house party or something?

As I listened more intently, it became apparent that that was  _exactly_ what he was doing. He was inviting all his asshole friends over for food and games while I was still stuck in this hell of a closet.

The backs of my eyes pricked at this but I refused to cry. I didn't cry. I was a man – a man raised in the cut-throat slums no less. Even when I was a child I was told not to cry. Crying was an obvious sign of weakness and as soon as someone saw you as weak, you became a target.

I swallowed again as another strong waft of food hit my nostrils and my stomach wailed in agony.


	6. Day 06

**Day 06:**

I didn't get any sleep again last night. Though this time, it was less to do with the cold and more to do with the fact that five or six Blondie's stayed over in Iason's pool room last night.

All. Fucking. Night.

Sure, they didn't need sleep being androids and all, but they hadn't even toned it down a little bit so  _I_ could get some shut-eye. But why would they? They were Blondie's, I was a pet. That was an explanation right there.

There'd been laughing and the sound of their gaming and then, for some  _ungodly_ reason, someone had decided that music –  _at full volume_ – had also been a good idea.

I wish I could've slept last night. At least it would've taken my mind off the endless growling of my stomach. I'm not even sure I  _have_ a stomach anymore to be honest. More like… a depressing-black-hole-void-pit-of-despair. Yeah, that sounds right.

When the gurgling sound it makes becomes too annoying to continue listening too, I shuffle myself over to the sink and drink as much as I can manage before returning to my stale corner and bundling myself back up in the two sheets Iason  _kindly_ left.


	7. Day 07

**Day 07:**

Someone knocked on the door today.

Being half-asleep, I thought I was dreaming or hallucinating at first. However, the sound came again, only a little louder and I could hear the faintest sound of shuffling feet at the door. The sound was too quiet to be Iason though.

"Cal?" I croaked, my voice coming out hoarser and much gruffer than I'd intended it to.

The hand that had been knocking paused mid-knock and I heard someone clear their throat and another shuffle of feet. It was certainly Cal. I felt like a heavy weight had been pulled off my chest. At least Cal remembered that I existed. Maybe he couldn't do anything about my condition, but at least I knew I hadn't been forgotten.

"Cal—" I called again, this time a little louder as I threw my bundle of sheets off me and tripped over my own feet in an attempt to reach the door. Was he here to bring me food?! Was he here to let me out!?

However, before I could even place my hands on the door, the shuffling sound came again and I realised that the sound was moving away. My heart throbbed painfully and desperately.

" _Cal!_ " I yelled loudly as I tried to get an answer from the other side of the door. When there was no reply or any noise of any sort, I tried again.

" _CAL!"_

But again there was no noise.

I rocked back on my heels until my ass hit the floor and then, I simply listened. I listened as the sound of silence once again became the norm.

Cal had gone.

I was back to being alone again.


	8. Day 08

Day 08:

I felt both irritable and flat. The long enduring silence had not been punctured since Cal left yesterday afternoon – aside from my stomach sounding like a dying whale. I hurt all over as well. From what? I wasn't sure. Maybe it was simply from sleeping on the hard floor. I seemed to be developing these open sores on my elbows, wrists and shoulder from lying so long on the ground.

Every now and then I thought I heard a noise outside the door, but I didn't know if Cal had come back or if I was imagining things. I was stuck in a hell-hole and I couldn't get out; didn't know when or even  _if_ I'd get out.

My hunger was one thing, but the dead-quiet was entirely another.


	9. Day 09

Day 09:

The walls were closing in on me. The walls were fucking  _moving_. Why were the walls moving! Why wasn't Iason doing something about this? Was this just another twisted part of his terrifying punishment?

Depositing the sheets in my sleeping corner, I crawled my way over to where I knew the door to be on my hands and knees in the semi-darkness. Placing both of my hands on the locked door, I felt my way to the hard metal bit in the center and then started hammering and hollering as loudly as I could.

" _Iason!_ "

There was no reply; there was never a reply. But it was what I had been expecting and it didn't stop me from doing it again and again and again. I continued to scream as loudly as I could, the walls continuing to press in on me the whole time. I needed to get out of here!

My breathing quickened as the walls got closer and closer. I stopped yelling when I could no longer manage to grab a breath fast enough before the next one came. My chest was heaving and I stared at the opposing wall which, ever-so-slowly, was getting closer. I couldn't breathe anymore. My heart was hitting against the wall of my chest so loudly that I thought it might burst free from my rib-cage. My vision had blurred around the edges and my extremities and my teeth felt like they were buzzing, until I couldn't feel them at all. Still, the wall continued to get closer. I let out a noise of distress from the back of my throat and I curled up into a little ball. I was going to die. I was going to die! I was going to get crushed by a wall!

I closed my eyes and simply waited.

But the wall never reached me.

Eventually my breathing began slow and return to its original pace, and very, very slowly, I once again opened my eyes.

The wall remained unmoved from its original place. It seemed almost like it was mocking me.

I let a single tear of relief slip out the corner of my left eye before I brushed it away and cursed under my breath as I did so.

" _Iason_ …" the word formed unconsciously on my lips, and I shriveled up into a pathetic ball once again.


	10. Day 10

**Day 10:**

I heard the sound before I registered the light behind my eyelids. The sound of the single door—its hinges protesting as it was opened. My sleep-filled eyes opened wearily and I moved myself into a sitting position.

"Riki?" A gentle voice echoed throughout the room, worry laced in the tone. "Riki, please, are you alright?"

"Cal…? It's you, isn't it?" I moaned through my cracked, unmoving lips.

"Yes, Master Riki, it's me," Cal's voice seemed awash with relief and he entered further into the room, coming right over to me, still bundled in the far corner.

I looked at the young eunuch and searched his worried eyes.

"Are you here to let me out?"

I continued scanning his eyes, but the regret that quickly filled them gave me my answer before Cal could even manage a word.

"…N-no, Master Riki. Master Iason says that I must feed you."

My eyes popped open even further. Iason was finally giving me food? Why now? No, I couldn't think too much about it. Food was food—anything was better than starving. But still, I couldn't help but want to know.

"W… _Why_?" I stammered, unintentionally voicing my question.

However, Cal did not reply, as he had already moved himself from the ground in front of me and gone outside to fetch the aforementioned meal. Patiently I waited for the Furniture to return, and for a whole moment I feared that he never would.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to bring more, Master Riki..." Cal spoke in hushed tones as he returned to my side. "Master Iason forbade it." His voice calmed my rising anxiety. I didn't want him to go. This endless silence was going to drive me to the brink of insanity.

I grabbed his wrist; accidently using so much force that I caused him to wince and shook my head, dismissing his last sentence.

"No, Cal, thank you. Seriously kid."

Cal seemed to blush for half a second, but quickly he shoved his emotions back and presented a bowl of soup and two scraps of buttered bread in front of me.

Carefully, and with Cal's help, I lifted the bowl of watery broth to my lips and took my first sip. The taste and the warmth that hit my tongue and throat was nearly enough to make me cry. I hurried to take my next sip, and then another and another, but Cal made me pace myself and fed me little bits of bread after soaking them in the soup so that I would fill more of my stomach.

"…Are you doing alright, Master Riki?" Cal suddenly asked, the question springing from nowhere as he carefully pushed a bit of bread towards my lips. "I mean, are you…" But Cal simply trailed off. He didn't know what to say—it was clear that I wasn't alright, but he couldn't do anything about my situation. I'd basically put myself in here; disobeying and humiliating Iason as I had. I'd known repercussions couldn't be avoided. I'd had that tiny scuffle with that other pet, knowing full well that punishment was to be expected.

"I'm alright, Cal." I lied, trying to alleviate some of Cal's anxiousness. The Furniture simply nodded, seeing straight through my lie but leaving his lips clamped shut anyway.

When the meal was finished, Cal stood and took the bowl with him. He cast me a sympathetic glance, but before he could say anything, I interjected.

"When is Iason letting me out of here, Cal?"

I couldn't hold back the hopefulness in my tone—I just wanted this to be over. Yet, I saw Cal shake his head, despair for me in his eyes.

"I'm sorry… I don't know."

And with that, Cal turned and locked the door behind him.


	11. Day 11

**Day 11:**

Cal didn't come back today. I thought… no, I  _hoped_ he might. I hoped that the starvation would be over. I hoped that Iason would let Cal bring me a meager meal each day. But he didn't come. Was Iason only going to let me eat every ten days? Was that his plan? If so, how long did that mean I was going to be in here for?

I slumped further against the wall, staring out across the small space and focusing on the sink and then the toilet—the only two things of interest in the sparse room.

This seemed endless; relentless and unending. I wished that Iason had beaten me instead. All I had was the same four walls to look at, day in and day out. The same door, the same faucet that dripped every now and then, the same gurgling toilet, the same two sheets that barely covered me and did nothing when the nights were cold. I hadn't known Iason like this before. I'd known he was heartless, but I didn't realise he was well versed in torture.

I started to hum under my breath. An old lullaby I realised after a moment. I hummed until what little light there was in the room turned to darkness and then finally, I slipped back into an uneasy sleep.


	12. Day 12

**Day …12:**

So… day twelve…

I think.

I think I've been locked up in here for twelve days. I'm not entirely sure as I haven't been marking them off, but I think yesterday was eleven…? The days are blurring together now. I'm not quite sure where one starts and another ends.

The silence was punctuated again last night though. I heard noises coming from the pool room but I don't think Iason was actually playing billiards. Honestly, I don't have a clue as to what it was he was doing last night. He could've been watching a private pet show and I wouldn't have known!

Deep down, I'm actually afraid that was what he was doing.

I'm scared.

It's been twelve days and Iason hasn't even shown any signs that my punishment is going to end. What if he finds another pet—a more entertaining pet—and completely forgets I'm even here. I'd be trapped for eternity, Cal only feeding me once every ten days.

I can't help but believe he was watching a private pet show and honestly, every time I think about it, my whole body shakes.


	13. Day 13

**Day 13:**

I've been forgotten…

I've been forgotten…

All I did today was pace up and down in my little cell. I counted each step. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… turn… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… turn…

It was a cycle; a repetitive cycle that I couldn't break except to get a mouthful of water every now and then. I've spent nearly thirteen whole days alone. Cal hasn't come back but I don't think he will for several more days yet.

I wish I hadn't beat up that pet.

I sincerely wish I hadn't done that. I should have just let him insult me. I should've just ignored him—if I'd only done that.

It's something I wish every day. Something I dream about every night. But then I wake up, back in this hard, four walled room.


	14. Day 14

**Day 14:**

"I'm not going anywhere!" I shout to the empty room.

The wall across from me splits in half, forming what appears to be a mouth. It's kind of creepy actually. A mouth without any eyes, but the wall never gets any eyes. Only a mouth.

"I know." It replies rather harshly. "You're mine. You're not going anywhere."

The wall sounds like Iason. The words it speaks sound like those Iason would say to me. The wall presses and purses its lips together, sealing them almost shut. If I didn't know it any better, I would think the wall hadn't spoken to me at all. But I did know better, and the wall  _had_ talked to me.

"I  _hate_ you!" I curse at it in reply. "I hate you so much. You're the one at fault here, not me! I didn't do  _anything!_  I don't fucking deserve this!"

The wall's mouth closes over. If it had eyes, I'd be sure it was glaring at me. It doesn't talk after that. Not even after I mutter an apology. Eventually I crawl over to it, my whispered apologies are never enough. It doesn't want to listen.


	15. Day 15

**Day 15:**

" _About_ _a_ _month…"_

" _Really?"_

" _Yeah…" the man lying next to me replied, running his fingers gently over my skin. "It seems like a pretty long time to go without food._ _A_ _h, but don't worry," he grinned, "I'll take care of you. I'd never let you starve, Riki."_

_I gave him a mocking deadpan expression before moving on. "So your body can go without food for_ _a_ _month…"_

" _Yup!"_

_I_ _eye-balled_ _him suspiciously. Where had these random facts come from? "Why do you know these things, Guy?"_

_Guy pressed his lips to mine and I didn't pull away, simply allowing the small action to pass. "I know a lot of facts about the human body…" he continued, a sly grin forming on his face and his fingers trailing down my hips to the waistband of my pants._

_Pursing my lips I slapped his hand away harsher than I'd originally intended. Guy's arm recoiled and shock passed across his expression for a moment before it was quickly replaced with a wry smile._

" _Why not?"_

_He posed the question rather innocently but I held firm._

" _You_ know  _why—" I hissed back, annoyed that he could simply brush off the fact that someone had nearly killed him in a gang fight today. "If you can't keep it in your pants, you can sleep elsewhere."_

_For a second he pouted, but when I remained unmoved, he lay his head down on the pillow and pulled me closer to him._

" _Alright, if you say so."_

It was strange that such a happy memory could cause me such anguish now. Bizarre too, that the random facts Guy had been absentmindedly talking about still stuck in my brain. I wouldn't  _completely_ starve—or at least I hoped I wouldn't. I simply had to trust that Guy's fact was the truth. I just had to hold on for as long as I could.


	16. Day 16

**Day 16:**

This is it. This is the end. Surely. Oh god, I just want to die.

I'm hungry and so useless. What did Iason keep me around for anyway? But… he wasn't keeping me around. I wasn't anywhere near him. He was… he was somewhere else and I was running out of brain capacity to process this mind-numbing torture.

I'm used to the talking wall now. It still sounds very much like Iason. It still doesn't have any eyes. I tell it to grow a pair but it just doesn't listen—it seems content to simply have a mouth.

Also, I don't think I've moved in days… I don't know how many days… I forgot to keep count. When Cal comes back I will ask him how long I've been in here for…  _if_ Cal comes back.

If  _anyone_ ever comes back for me…


	17. Day 17

**Day 17:**

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

Help.

**Please…**


	18. Day 18

**Day 18:**

I think I'm going insane. No, scratch that—I'm one-hundred percent  _sure_ I'm insane. I keep hearing voices coming from outside the door. I yell at them, but then they stop. Sometimes I think they're whispering about me, but other times I think they're just fucking with me. Occasionally I hear my name. It comes only as a whisper, so I can barely make it out at all, but I'm sure they're whispering my name. Most of the time it happens at night. It's always when I'm trying to sleep—they're trying to keep me awake; as if I wasn't going through enough torture already! I'm sure Iason's bought a bunch of pets and is making them sit outside the door and have hushed conversations about me. That's what he's done.


	19. Day 19

**Day…**

… **19:**

I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of being the one who's constantly having to battle, constantly having to fight. If I could give it all up I would, certainly. Yet, there's always something that pushes me forward. Whether it be Guy, his gentle encouragement from the side, Iason—constantly forcing me to take another step, or even myself; the tiny part of me that refuses to give in, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Being sealed away from the world like this is no different, but this time, I don't have Guy at my side, nor do I have Iason making me push past my limits. All I have is myself. And that tiny, flickering flame that burns strongest when faced with adversity? It seems ready to go out.


	20. Day 20

Day 20:

I think I've come down with a cold. I dunno… it certainly  _feels_ like I've come down with something. Maybe I'm just making something out of nothing. Not that it really matters, I'm going to die in here of something—I just don't know what yet. Every day the sun rises and falls; I'm losing track of all time. I honestly don't know how long I've been in here.

I looked down at my abdomen today and I nearly laughed as I saw a number of ribs poking out. I don't know why I thought it was funny—perhaps it was the irony: I was living in a penthouse in Eos, the most luxurious place in the entire world but I was going to die of hunger as though I had never left the slums of Ceres at all. If that wasn't the most ironic thing, then nothing ever would be.


	21. Day 21

**Day 21:**

The first thing I heard today was a startled gasp. That was before I heard something like a key clatter onto the solid concrete and my blurry, sleep-filled eyes opened. It took me more than a minute to register that the door to my prison was actually  _open_ and there was a person standing in the doorway, an expression of shock and horror written upon his face.

"Riki?!"

I furrowed my brows and tried to hoist myself into more of a sitting position, but my arms wouldn't lend me the strength I needed, so instead I pushed myself up with my legs. The person who'd previously been standing in the doorway was by my side in less than a minute.

"Riki?" They called my name again and I finally pushed far enough past the haze in my brain to realise that Cal was speaking to me.

"Cal?" I croaked, my voice husky from disuse. What was the Furniture doing here?

It confused me even more when Cal smiled and tears formed in his eyes. "Yes Master Riki, it's me, Cal. I'm here."

I smiled back at the kid. Maybe this was just some bizarre dream, but I didn't care—I'd take talking to Cal over talking to the wall that sounded like Iason any day. At least Cal was nice to me. There was that. Cal hadn't been the one to shove me in here; I couldn't blame him in the slightest.

"I'm here to bring you your meal, Master Riki." Cal continued, bringing a tray of food inside the room faster than I could comprehend what he was actually doing.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I let myself rest. Talking to Cal was exhausting. Movingat  _all_  was exhausting.

"Master Riki?"

I blinked my eyes open again and found a spoon being held in front of my mouth. Lifting my head forward, I wrapped my mouth around the spoon and allowed Cal to feed me. I felt like an invalid—but I didn't care. My head was throbbing and my stomach howled as soon as the tiniest bit of watery broth made its way down my gullet.

Calmly and patiently, Cal fed me spoonful after spoonful of soup interspersed with buttered bread.

"Riki, I'm so sorry." The Furniture said after at least ten minutes. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you."

"It's not your fault, kid." I muttered with all the strength I had.

"No—let me say this." Cal continued, this time a hint of anger pressed through his voice. "Master Iason is… he's wrong to do this to you."

"Cal, talking like that will get you terminated…" I interjected again. If there was anything I didn't want to happen, it was for Cal to disappear on me like Daryl had.

"I don't care!" The young eunuch shook his head and I was surprised to see more tears form in the corners of his eyes. "Iason doesn't have to come and check on you every ten days. He doesn't have to see you like this… You're sick, Riki. You're so much  _thinner_  and pale. You have no colour in you and you're barely able to lift your head as you are!"

"Cal, please… enough." My almost silent murmur was enough to frighten Cal out of his worried rant. "When I get out of here I'm going to need someone to take care of me. I don't want you gone before I get out of here. Stop talking like that, okay?"

Cal looked right in my eyes and after a moment of hesitation, the young Furniture nodded his head and lifted the empty bowl of soup from the ground.

"Alright," he agreed, standing and heading back towards the entrance-way. "I'll be waiting for you, Master Riki.

The sound of the door closing was enough for me to let down my façade of strength. I slumped against the corner and closed my eyes again, waiting for death to over take me. I felt sad that Cal's parting words were so hopeful and full of life. The kid truly believed that he'd see me alive again. That alone was enough to make me break down into frame racking sobs. If only the kid knew…


	22. Day 22

**Day 22:**

I barely even bother opening my eyes anymore. There's nothing to see anyway. There is only bleak, blank emptiness and a grey wall. The wall stopped talking to me a long time ago—it knows how pathetic and weak I am. Yet, for some reason I'm not lonely anymore either. Perhaps it's because I can't even muster up the energy needed to  _feel_  bored or alone.

On the rare occasion, I manage to hoist myself over to the sink so I can grab several mouthfuls of water to fill my stomach, but the energy required really taxes me and I try not to move too much.

I'm forgetting my emotions; they've been no use to me in here anyway. I'm discarding them one by one, trying to sort through my triumphs and regrets, stacking them in neat piles. Looking through each one, I've realised that the pile of regret far outweighs the triumphs. There are so many things I wish I could change, but I can't now.

It's pathetic, I know. I sound like I've completely given up… but… honestly, I just want to will it all away.


	23. Day 23

**Day 23:**

I felt angry for the first time in ages today. In fact I got so angry that I managed to find the strength to shout abuse at the opposing wall—the same wall that every time it opened its mouth, sounded very much like the asshole that'd left me here. I wasn't actually angry at Iason though. I mean, I was angry at him, but my anger in this instance hadn't been directed at him. Instead, I'd been angrier at myself.

The energy I suddenly had, seemed to come out of nowhere. So I used it and moved myself into the corner beside the sink. Then, after the amount of effort I'd taxed, I put my head against the wall and promptly fell asleep.

How could I just give up? How could I so readily accept defeat? I wouldn't! I wouldn't give up—I couldn't give up. While my life was obviously useless to Iason, it wasn't worthless to me—It was my life, damn it—and I was going to keep fighting for it until my last breath. Guy would be proud of me that way. I would die like I had lived, fighting until the bitter end.


	24. Day 24

**Day 24:**

I thought I heard Katze today. I could've sworn it was his voice outside my hellish prison. I thought I heard Cal too, but of that I was less sure—Katze was doing most of the talking. If Iason was there at all, he stayed completely silent, but I don't think the Blondie was anywhere in the nearby vicinity; not with the open tone Katze was using.

Katze was asking Cal all sorts of questions and the kid was replying with short, one word answers for the majority. The two of them spoke in such quiet tones that I couldn't make out anything they were saying, but it didn't really matter. It was nice just to have some company around at all.

They were talking for about ten minutes before I realised that Katze likely knew I was in here—Cal or Iason would have told him of my "punishment"… if that's what this still was. I wasn't sure if it could still be called "punishment" at this point.

However, I smiled a little bit at this. If Kazte knew I was in here, it probably meant that he'd arranged to talk to Cal outside the door on purpose. Subtly, Kazte was telling me I wasn't alone, he was telling me to have hope. He couldn't directly say it to my face, but he was making sure that I knew to stay strong. Though, rarely in this world dominated by fascist, sadistic Blondie's, content to see anything they so desired to burn, could one have or speak their thoughts openly. In the slums one certainly could, but mongrels and slum-rats never really had transcending ideas. Everyone was too busy fighting for the last scrap of bread.

I was sincerely grateful to Katze for this. Telling me to hold on and keep fighting; it was something I needed right now. Though, I didn't know if it would make a difference at this point. I was cold and starving and always so tired. I didn't really have anything left to give or anything I could keep fighting with. I was so close to the end of my tether—I was straining to keep myself from completely throwing the towel in and letting my mind take a permanent vacation from my body. Yet Kazte was, through his actions, silently pushing me on from the side and I was going to cling on to whatever I could until someone came to rescue me… or until my time ran out.

Sighing softly, I slowly closed my eyes and simply listened to the murmurings of Katze and Cal from outside until the voices faded away.


	25. Day 25

**Day 25:**

_"Hey…"_

_"Hey, why're you up so late? Couldn't sleep?"_

_I shook my head, rubbing my left eye as I did so. "I'm tired, but I can't sleep… keep having nightmares."_

_Guy's face softened and he gestured for me to join him on the broken, questionable sofa. I stumbled over, fell down on the ragged, old thing beside him and then he passed me a bottle with some black-brown substance inside. Without hesitation I took the bottle and immediately took a large swig, wincing as the cheap, foul liquid burned its way down my throat and settled like a tiny flame in my stomach._

_Passing the bottle back, I managed to keep the stuff down with surprising ease. "Whiskey?" I asked, furrowing my brows as the drink threatened to overcome my gag reflex for the second time._

_Guy nodded silently, his gaze torn away from mine as he gazed into the nothing. He was far more stoned than I'd first believed—the bottle was well over half empty._

_"Where'd you find that stuff anyway?" I continued, having a mostly one sided conversation._

_"Took it from that other gang." He stated plainly as he took another mouthful and then passed the bottle back over to me._

_"Today?"_

_Guy nodded again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and cursing mutedly under his breath._

_I watched him for a moment, but I gave in to what I knew was the inevitable and slammed my lips against the rim of the cheap alcohol. I knew what Guy was doing—what I was now doing as well. Trying to block out the memories, trying to erase them from existence. But the fact that three men had died today because of us couldn't just be wiped from out minds. We'd taken things to far…_

_I'd taken things to far._

_And now I couldn't take them back. It was a cut-throat world living down in the pit with the rats and the human trash, but "murderer" wasn't a title I'd wanted to wear. Not like that. Not like the way those three men had died._

_As the angry tears threatened to overwhelm me, I took another large swig from the stolen trophy and then passed it back to Guy._

_"We… we couldn't help it…" Guy muttered to himself._

_I knew what he meant, but I simply couldn't find my voice to console or comfort my friend. If we hadn't taken them out, then they would've killed us and they'd be the ones wallowing over their empty victory._

I leaned my head back against the wall and drew in a sharp, haggard breath. Was this some sort of divine punishment? I hadn't believed in a higher power before, but perhaps everyone wanted to believe in something other than themselves—especially when the end was near. Even the strongest seemed to change as their end came closer. When they knew they were to die. I'd seen it happen when men knew there was a bounty or a price on their head. They'd take their rosary beads or whatever other religious trinket they could find and they'd start praying. They'd pray to whatever god they could—whatever god had their listening ears on.

Now I could see why they did it. Especially those who'd lived their whole lives in the slums.

They wanted so badly to believe that there was something else out there, something better waiting for them on the other side. Because there had to be. There had to be something other than birth, a life of kill or be killed and eventual death. And if there wasn't, wasn't it all meaningless? Living in an empty world where nothing you or anyone else around you did actually mattered? The only beings that had any lasting effect on this world were not us; were not the tiny humans that lived at the bottom of the food chain. They were strong and powerful and beautiful. They could crush us like ants, but we were so far beneath them that they didn't even care—we were not worth their time.

It was a shame that I could only now see that. That only now I could see that my value to one of the powerful beings was finally done. I had only been an interesting diversion, a fun distraction. He'd said "dance, monkey, dance" and because I had refused to bow to his every whim, he'd found me entertaining. I was nothing in this world. I mattered not to anything or even anyone. Perhaps the Furniture would mourn me a little when I was gone. Maybe Guy would eventually believe me to be dead, maybe he would remember me like he once had.

Surely I should've known better. I'd lived my life in the slums and seen the lifeless bodies in the street, curled up, cold and unmoving in the mud where they'd died. I had been so naïve to once believe that I would not end up as those people had. I had been so naïve.


	26. Day 26

**Day 26:**

_Sometimes things happened and there was nothing you could do to stop them. I ran every scenario over in my mind until I was more confused than I already had been._

_"Riki, come over here." Iason had beckoned me from his place on the lounge. Apprehensively, I approached him, knowing this wouldn't end well. Iason had had a large amount of alcohol that night, and whilst Blondie's didn't get 'drunk', Iason was certainly inebriated._

_All my insticts screamed at me to back away, but out of fear more than anything else, I did as he commanded before he pulled me onto his lap._

_Putting down his glass of wine, Iason turned his attention back to me and told me to straddle him, which I did and learned that seconds later, I would regret this moment._

_Twisting our positions, Iason pushed me down onto the couch and hovered over me, the scent of wine strong in his breath._

_"Iason…" I murmured anxiously, my panic starting to rise. I didn't want to do this—I wasn't prepared!_

_"Riki…" he muttered back softly, sliding his hand up under my shirt and clearly reaching for my nipple. He bent down and his lips graced over my neck, each one leaving a tingly sensation on my skin._

_"Stop—Ah—!" Adrenaline flooded my overwhelmed brain, but pinned down as I was, I could not stop any of the ministrations he was inflicting upon my body._

_Needless to say, the rest of the night was not pleasurable and by the time we ended up in bed, I was shrinking away from every tiny movement Iason made._

How could Iason say that I had humiliated him! The cheek of it all. There was enough frightening history for him to somehow believe that what I had done justified this punishment, but what he'd done to me wasn't considered humiliating and degrading.

A sex toy. I was a fucking sex toy. A living doll for him to play with and to lock up when he was told to tidy up his room.

Why couldn't I just die already? I hated this. I hated everything. What was the point in hoping to get out of here alive anyway? I would simply return to being Iason's unpaid whore!


	27. Day 27

**Day 27:**

"Riki?"

There was a knock at the door and a voice deeper than I'd been expecting reverberated through it.

I didn't reply. I wasn't sure I knew how to reply. Instead I simply sat there and blinked, unsure of what to do.

"Riki? Answer me Riki." The voice became stern but I knew without a doubt to whom it belonged. However, I still could not manage to form the words I needed in order to obey his command.

"Fine!" I heard the voice snap back at my silence. "You can stay in there!"

Loud footsteps were the last thing I heard before everything finally came crashing down in waves upon me. The utter hopelessness of my situation—everything had finally become too much. I was finally at my end.

I closed my eyes and before I understood what was happening, I felt myself hit the floor. Without the strength to right myself, I let it all happen.


	28. Day 28

**Day 28:**

…

…

…

…


	29. Day 29

**Day 29:**

…

…

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	30. Day 30

Day 30:

…

I felt myself move. I felt weightless, like a detached feather, floating on some northerly wind. My mind was still slow in catching up to my body but, whatever was happening, wherever I was going, surely I wasn't going to need it anyway. What did I need with a broken mind, a crushed soul, a shattered spirit and a heart that had bled out long ago?

I could feel a warm, gentle current surrounding me. The moment it touched my face, I thought some higher being was gently caressing me, ushering me into the next life with love. The sensation disappeared quickly, but the feeling lingered—I was going someplace better, I was leaving this god-forsaken world for good. It had been a long time coming, but my time was here—I would welcome it with open arms. The slums were a distant memory and my time spent locked away in the tiny room which Iason had left me in had all been a bad nightmare. I felt free now. More free than I had in an extraordinarily long time.

I felt the warmth of a sun hit my face for a brief second. The feeling was glorious and strange but absolutely wonderful. I never wanted it to go. Yet, for some reason it did. However, it was quickly replaced with a soft feeling which surrounded me completely, soft like marshmallows and silk. Each new sensation felt new a revived. I wouldn't miss the world I had been born on. I would leave only my empty shell behind, but I cared not for the body in which I had died. I was heading on. Heading to a better place.


	31. Day Finalem

I opened my eyes for the first time in a long time and quickly, like a hand thrust inside my chest with the intent to crush my heart, I felt my world crash down around me. Even through my light headedness and fuzzy vision I knew exactly where I was.

A single, helpless sob escaped my lips as I looked up and saw the canopy that surrounded the bed-head and the white, pristine ceiling. How was this happening? How was I here? Was this some sort of sick, cruel, twisted joke?

"Riki? Are you awake?" The husky voice that sounded next to me caused me to turn my head and finally see a familiar blonde figure by my side. Our eyes met, but I couldn't hold his gaze for long—I looked away, if only so he wouldn't see the sheer anguish I felt at being alive. He voiced my name again, this time relief riddled throughout the two syllables, but I closed my eyes in an attempt to contain the overpowering need to cry.

"Damn it…" I cursed mutedly as I lifted an unsteady, trembling hand to wipe away the sudden emotion.

However, the Blondie—who was watching me very closely— did not miss a thing. He grabbed my hand, preventing me from wiping away the salty tears that were clouding my already hazy vision, and I could not fight against him—I didn't even have the strength to try. I simply let him do as he wished, he would do so anyway.

"Riki…" Iason moved himself onto the bed next to me and with his other hand, brushed away my fallen tears with the pad of his thumb and then leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. Again I let him do as he wished. Whatever fight I'd had was long gone. My wick had long ago burned out in the darkness that Iason had left me in. I'd burned for as long as I had been able, but I simply could not burn any longer. The oil at the bottom of my candle had put me out. "Don't cry, Riki. You're forgiven; I forgive you." He whispered, pulling away minutely from my face and staring down at me with concern.

Iason hushed me and gently petted my hair but my anguish only built further. None of this had been my fault, yet for some reason it felt like Iason was pushing all of the blame onto me. I could not fight it though. I could not fight back and tell him these things. It was easier to take the words. I could not go back in that room. I could not return there.

Iason's long blonde hair tickled my face as he sat upright, still holding my hand. He stared down at me with such relief that I felt like I needed to say something—if only to break the immeasurable silence.

"Iason," I said, the words coming out as more of a strained whisper. "I—"

"Shh, Riki." He placed his finger over my lips and then stroked my hair again, as though he'd missed the texture of it. "Don't speak, pet. You are very weak and you shouldn't strain yourself. Raoul says you need to have that I.V. in for another two or three days and you're not allowed to exert yourself."

Confused, I looked over to my arm and was surprised to find a long, thin plastic pipe jutting out of my arm which was connected to a bag on a stand filled with an unknown clear liquid.

I suddenly felt the pressure weighing down the bed lift and looking back over, I found Iason now standing erect.

"I'm going to call Raoul now that you're awake; he wanted to be informed."

Iason turned to make his way out the door, however the terrified cry that left my throat caused him to pause and look back over his white robed shoulder at me.

"No!" I huffed as loudly as I could manage. "Please don't leave!" I strained in desperation, reaching for Iason's sleeve in order to pull him back. I couldn't be by myself—not even for a moment. Iason didn't understand; he didn't  _understand!_

It was very clear to me now that Iason did not fully comprehend what he'd put me through—I'd lived an entire lifetime of suffering in that tiny room and now that I was returned to my old life, Iason was acting as though it had barely happened.

"Please don't go…" I croaked in unbidden anguish.

Iason's ordinarily stern expression softened but was also lined with great, yet veiled concern. The tall Blondie slid back over to me and the bed depressed as he lowered himself back onto it. "Alright," he murmured, reaching out to stroke my panicky face. "I'll stay for a moment if that is what you wish."

After a moment of silence between us, Iason was soon wearing a soft smile. "I'm glad you've accepted that you were wrong during your punishment, Riki. You embarrassed and humiliated me in front of all those other Elites at the party and I was very angry with you—I did consider leaving you to dwell in there for a bit longer but the Furniture was almost incapable of doing his duty due to his concern over your welfare."

Iason's words cut me deeply. So it was true. I was nothing more than entertainment to this sadistic man. I felt ready to choke.

"However," Iason's brows furrowed as he continued, his words breaking through my thoughts. "The Furniture wasn't alone in that respect. I too missed your presence, Riki. I've been very lonely without you here—I was tempted to pull you out of on several occasions, but for the sake of your learning, I refrained. I'm happier now that you're back, though I have to admit that I was wrong to not let the Furniture take better care of you."

The Blondie crushed me to his chest as I suddenly lost complete control of my ability to comprehend what was happening. I couldn't think straight—but I wasn't sure I wanted to comprehend Iason's words. I was so tired of fighting. I didn't want to anymore, at least not for today. Tomorrow things could change, but for today all I wanted to do was be reminded that I was alive.

Iason again pressed his lips against mine, demanding entrance when his upper teeth grazed over my lower lip. I willingly gave up and the Blondie's tongue was quick to invade. It was hard to believe that I'd spent thirty, solitary days in a tiny room, but for now, I would put it behind me. For now I would let Iason do as he wished and I would recover. Yet, I knew that one day I would have to once again face those days, those things I'd finally admitted to myself during those thirty days.

_ THE END _


End file.
